While John was at Oatlands, J stayed at Lambeth. Jane was now complete mistress of the house and the place was run with godly care. The day started with prayers for the household which J read aloud and then any one of them, from the youngest kitchen maid to the senior gardener, would pray extempore, saying what he or she wished to the congregation and to their own personal God. The household went about their work all day and then came together again in the evening, before bedtime, for another brief session of praying together. Imperceptibly, the dress of the household altered, the servants naturally copying Jane’s modest muted style.

J rather thought that his father would complain when he finally returned home, but there was no explosion of disapproval.

‘You must run the house as you wish,’ he said equably to Jane. ‘You are the mistress here now. You must order what you wish.’

‘I think it is what everyone wishes,’ Jane said eagerly.

John gave her a little knowing smile. ‘But what if it were not?’ he asked. ‘What if the cook and the kitchen maid, Peter, and the two gardeners and their lad all agreed that they would rather have some dancing and some singing and a cup of ale instead? That they wanted to wear green and scarlet and ribbons in their hair? Would you provide it?’

‘I would reason with them,’ Jane said stiffly. ‘And wrestle with their souls.’

‘So people are free to do as they wish as long as they choose right?’

‘Yes,’ she said; and then, ‘No, not exactly.’

John smiled at her. ‘When you have power over people, it is very easy to forget that they are doing as you order because you order it,’ he said. ‘You can mistake obedience for consent. I say that my household shall be obedient to you. I don’t think that they prefer it that way. But they will be obedient to you because I order it. However, I shall come to prayers only now and then – when I really want to.’

‘I am sure you would find it a comfort …’ Jane began.

John patted her cheek. ‘I think you are wrestling with my soul,’ he said. ‘I want my soul left in peace.’

Jane smiled at him. ‘All right,’ she conceded. ‘D’you want to see Baby John?’

‘Yes,’ John said.

Frances brought the baby and placed him carefully in his grandfather’s lap. Baby John put his fists against his grandfather’s chest, reared back and inspected his face.

‘He still doesn’t eat properly,’ Frances said disapprovingly.

‘Why not?’ John asked.

‘He still sucks,’ Frances said. ‘He’s like a little goat.’

John smiled. ‘Don’t you love your little brother?’ he asked.

Frances drew closer to him. ‘He’s all right,’ she said. ‘But I don’t like how everyone makes such a fuss of him. I’m still your favourite, aren’t I, Granddad?’